I Miss You
by fieldofyellowdandelions
Summary: It’s been one month, 22 days since Jessica died and its Christmas Eve.


**Title:** I Miss You  
**Character: **Sam and Dean  
**Rating: **K+  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters or the universe they live in.  
**Summary: **It's been one month, 22 days since Jessica died and its Christmas Eve.  
**Author's Notes: **Written because we've never seen Sam cry over Jessica' death and I want to see Sam cry, god damn it! Plus, I like the song and it deserved a good story.

_Hello there the angel from my nightmare  
The shadow in background of the morgue  
The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley  
We can live like Jack and Sally if we want  
Where you can always find me  
And we'll have Halloween on Christmas  
And in the night we'll wish this never ends  
We'll wish this never end_

-- I Miss You, Blink 182

It's been one month, 22 days since Jessica died and its Christmas Eve.

Sam hasn't mentioned it and Dean doesn't know if he should bring it up. After all, the past two years he hasn't even sent a card.

Even thought neither one has mentioned the Christmas cheer, it's hard to ignore the brightly colored lights, the Salvation Army kettles on the corner, the vendors selling Christmas trees and holiday music in every store. It's enough to make a man vomit.

But since they haven't talked about it at all, Dean doesn't know if he should just pretend December 25th is just another day or should he make a little effort to do something. After all, it is Christmas and for the first time in four years, they're going to spend it together.

Maybe he should buy Sam a gift or, at least, a six pack. You couldn't go wrong with beer. Yeah, beer would have to do, except by the time Dean thought about it, it was Christmas Eve and most everything was closed. He'd ended up beer that wasn't worth half of what it had cost him. Oh well, it was a special occasion.

Dean came back to the motel room to find Sam sitting in the dark, looking at a picture in his wallet. He didn't even look up when Dean came in.

_Well, shit_, Dean thought because there was only one picture in Sam's wallet.

"Hey." Dean greeted his brother, just in case he was so lost in his own head he didn't actually hear Dean come in.

"Hey." Sam replied, still looking down at the picture in his hands.

Dean put the case of beer on the table and tried to decide what to do next. He could have a long shower and leave Sam here to deal with whatever was on his mind or he could risk a chick flicky moment and try to talk to Sam. Man, Dean not like those conversations. It wasn't so much that Dean didn't want to talk about emotions and grief, though that certainly wasn't on of preferred areas of conversation, as he was of screwing it up.

_What's the worst that could happen,_ Dean consoled himself as he sat down on the bed next to Sam, _it's gonna be crappy Christmas anyway._

Dean was trying to find something to say Sam saved him the trouble. Well, Sam was a modern man, after all and talking about emotions was less of an issue for him. Sometimes Dean wondered if Sam had taken some Emotions 101 course at Stanford.

"We would have been at Jessica's parents place for Christmas." Sam paused, briefly, "They invited me over last year as well. Treated me like family."

"They're good people." Dean replied, not lying. The Moore's were good people. After the fire that had taken their daughter's life, they had insisted that Sam and Dean stay at their place until the funeral. And they would have been welcome to stay longer, if Sam hadn't been so insistent about finding Dad. When they left, Mrs. Moore had told them to visit when they got back to Palo Alto.

"We had a great time. The food was excellent, turkey and mashed potatoes, with cranberries and gravy, the best I've ever tasted. And they went full out, with this huge tree that reached to the ceiling and chocolate on every table. After supper, we sat around talking and laughing. And Jess' nieces were running around the house. And her brother had a bit too much to drink and Jess got in an argument with her mom. But it was all great.

_Man, I wish I could give you a Christmas like that_, Dean thought and then chided himself for not thinking of it sooner. There were plenty of places they could have gone. The Moore's had offered an invitation to visit and what better time than Christmas? Or, if that would have been a bit awkward, why not Pastor Jim and his wife, Carol? Hell, they could even have visited Caleb or Gwen and knocked back a couple of cold ones.

_Damn, why didn't I think of this sooner?_

"They had us sleep in separate rooms, even though we had practically moved in together. I was on the futon in the computer room and, after everyone was asleep, Jessica snuck in and, well, you know." Sam paused, smiling at the memory, "That was the best Christmas of my life."

Dean can't help but be a little hurt that Sam would rather spend Christmas with strangers than his own family. But, at the same time, he couldn't exactly blame his brother. Christmas was never a big priority at the family Winchester, even when they were kids. They got gifts, of course, and a nice home cooked dinner, usually but there wasn't really the money for anything fancy.

"We never had that, you know, and I had always wanted it."

"I know."

"I wanted it with her."

And then Sam did something Dean had been waiting for ever since he'd pulled his brother out of the burning apartment. Sam leaned forward, resting his head in his arms, and sobbed.

Dean, always the protective older brother, wanted to say or do something that would fix things and make life okay again. But anything he could say would have sounded cliché and false, so he settled on wrapping his arm around Sam and letting him cry.

_Next year, _Dean found himself silently promising Sam as he rubbed his back in slow, even circles, _Next year we'll go all out. Tree. Turkey. Presents. Kris Kringle if he's in town. The real deal. _

They were owned enough favors that someone would take them in. Anything was better than a crappy motel room and piss poor beer.

The digital alarm clock on the bedside table flipped to 12:01 and Dean hugged his crying brother close.

_Merry Fuckin' Christmas._

**End**


End file.
